


Gold

by sirenalley



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenalley/pseuds/sirenalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin gets gold, and there's only one person in the world he wants to share it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold

From the stands, Haru has a panoramic view of the Olympic swimming pool. His first glimpse is soul-stealing. It’s different from the projection of footage and film, stretched long and blue from end to end. It’s another creature, huge and alarming enough to intimidate Haru as much as it spellbinds him.

He’s drawn from his distraction when the swimmers are announced. They emerge and line up at their lanes, situating caps and goggles, stretching limbs last-minute and scanning the crowd.

Rin Matsuoka walks out to a swell of applause, claiming the fourth lane. He hunts through the sea of colored flags for white and red—for Haru’s eyes. Haru can’t see well from this distance, so he’s squinting, but the look is deliberate. And then Rin turns away. He shucks off his jacket, snaps his goggles. His face is sober as he bends over the starting block. His toes curl in, his body loosens, his breath streams out.

Haru doesn’t remember the race well. The suspense is thick and covers everything. It gets stuck in his chest. Roaring voices rise up and break on the last leg, at that last stretch, when every hand extends and reaches for wall contact. Haru is only watching lane four—Rin’s powerful arms cutting grooves in the water until he’s unrecognizable in the wet spray of movement.

Afterward, Rin grins jaggedly and climbs from the pool. His eyes know where to go. The Australian swimmer puts a hand on Rin’s arm before he can run up into the stands, because he’s about to, Haru can tell.

Haru takes in air he suddenly needs, but he never looks away.

They endure a celebratory dinner with Gou and Rin’s mother—Rin’s Olympic skeleton crew—and then they’re back in the hotel room. Rin hasn’t stopped looking at him the whole time.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he says as he corners Haru in the empty elevator. His medal swings and catches the light in a golden blink. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Do you know how hard it was to get through three courses like this?” The question is punctuated by grinding hips. 

“Didn’t you enjoy it?” He’s afraid his voice comes out an airless wheeze. “The waiter asked for your autograph.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a celebrity now. Are you in awe?”

Unimpressed, he puts his hands on Rin’s hips and steers him back. “You’ll survive five more minutes.”

Rin whines between the hallway and the room and he never stops touching. His fingers stroke the back of Haru’s bare wrists, his lips pepper the warm space behind his ears, his arms catch Haru around the middle. It’s difficult to shake him, but Haru doesn’t really put heart into it. 

One of them kicks the door shut using their heel, and then Rin’s turning him around, whispering “wait.” Rin’s expression is more modest than his victory grin, mouth a timid crescent as he leans closer. “Here.” Pulling the medal over his head, he drops it around Haru’s throat, using his palm to push the flat disc against Haru’s heart. 

Heat spreads from the center of his body and tingles down to the tips of his fingers. He watches Rin’s face, which is a little bit red. “… It’s yours.”

“I know. You’re keeping it for me.”

“Why?”

“So I can go out and get more,” he says, “what do you think?”

“Rin…”

Rin’s hands push him toward the bed with shushing sounds. “Haru. I’m seriously going to fuck you now, so don’t argue. I don’t want to hear it.” He’s quick about stripping off his jacket and shirt, slower with his belt because he’s trying to get Haru naked simultaneously. Haru’s eyes glitter. He reaches down to help the process—he has more skill stripping off most of his clothes, but he hesitates on the gold medal’s strap.

“What about this?”

Rin gives it one quick glance. “Wear it.” His voice is low and rough, his face redder.

They kiss until their breath is labored, until they’re heady and giddy with building suspense. They’ve done this enough by now to know where to touch, but there are frantic, possessive undertones as Rin licks a burning line from his breastbone to his belly. His tongue is hot when it dips into his navel and licks further. Rin scrapes his nails to draw pink lines on the pale inner skin of his thighs where he knows they’ll last, and then he’s pushing his legs apart.

Haru can find a certain escape in this. His mind is white, thoughtless and clear. His body floats ahead of him. It can be dangerous, but not when Rin grips him hard enough to remind him where he is and who he’s with. He can’t go anywhere with Rin’s body bowed over him, anchoring him to the sheets.

“Wear one of my shirts tomorrow,” Rin demands in his trembling voice as he palms his ass, squeezing the cheeks and digging in his fingers. “One of the low ones. The looser tanks.”

It takes him a moment to gather a response. “… Why?”

“It’d look so fucking hot on you.” He tucks his face against Haru’s shoulder. “And I’m leaving hickeys all over your neck. They can see when I bring you to my interview.”

Haru sputters.

“Do it,” Rin nuzzles his mouth along the thickest tendon in his throat. “Everyone can see.”

“That means everyone else back home too, Rin.”

“Don’t care.” His breath gusts over Haru’s skin and his teeth are a sharp hazard, his tongue flicking the same spot. “Come on.”

“No,” Haru says stubbornly. Just the idea makes his face flame up, counterpoint to the throb of heat below his stomach. He squeezes his legs too tight around Rin’s waist and aligns their hips in a squirming wriggle. A noise snares in the back of his throat when Rin’s dick drags along the line of his pelvic bone. 

It’s a worthy distraction, because Rin groans and ruts against him harder, pinning him through sheer force. “Haru…” Their bodies are sealed tightly, hands groping and palming at inches of skin until Haru is overheated and built up. Rin notices, biting again. “Shit. You look so wrecked. I wish I could take a picture, show you… You’re so gorgeous, Haru.”

He answers by jutting his hips up, his heels planted on the bed. “Hurry up.”

It doesn’t take long to find the lube, as evidently Rin had an agenda. Rin spreads him apart and uses just the tips of his fingers to pry him open, slick and blunt, pinching a little when he tries to fit three. “You want more of my fingers?” he asks, withdrawing his hand and tracing the crease of Haru’s ass with only his index. “Want them in you?” Then he slips it in, hooks it, watching Haru’s face. Haru’s eyes are closed but his expression is slack, mouth hanging open as he lets his legs spread loosely apart. He’s silent except for soft intermittent huffs and gritted whimpers. “You’re begging for it, Haru.”

Bowing over him, Rin kisses his belly so it flinches and then drives his fingers in at an impatient, jerky pace. His wrist works until its aches at the joint. He keeps going, making Haru shudder and bend his spine, pushing back. It doesn’t pinch anymore but there’s a vague ache, the good kind, the deep kind. It lasts when he pulls them out, wiping off on the sheet and closing his hands over Haru’s knees.

“How do you want it?” His voice is hoarse and lower than a purr. “On top? Wanna ride me? I can get deeper if you’re on your back.”

Haru’s eyes slit open. His legs hang limply in Rin’s hands, arms pushed up over his head. “Don’t care,” he parrots.

“Jeez.” Rin blows hair off his brow. “At least act interested.”

But they both know Haru doesn’t need to—it’s written into the lines of his body, his glassy expression, the relaxed sprawl of his limbs. He’s luring Rin through that alone. 

Rin gets it, hooking his arms under Haru’s legs and dragging him a few inches down the bed with a breath of effort. His cock is already slicked up, his fingers reaching between their bodies to part Haru’s ass and line the tip against his hole, rubbing across it to make him twitch. He sucks in air—this is the moment of the most tension, position held like he’s at the starting block, muscles bunched tight, waiting for the signal. It’s in Haru’s eyes this time. They flash blue as the gold medal slides off his chest sideways on a long inhale.

Hips rolling, Rin lets his body sink into Haru’s, buried in that tight channel as he hikes Haru’s legs higher up, almost on his shoulders. His arms bear most of the weight, biceps straining as he bends Haru nearly in half and fucks into him. The rhythm is effortless then. Their bodies are always in sync, and Rin’s dick drags out of him faster with each brutal thrust, humid breath mingling in the narrow space of their mouths. He works on staying inside of Haru longer, pulling out slower and pushing in quicker, because he knows that’s what Haru likes.

At some point, Rin’s focus is too slippery to filter what’s coming out of his mouth. “Haru, Haru, Haru,” he says in a broken chant, panting against Haru’s cheek, kissing his damp mouth. “Love you—Haru, Haru.”

They don’t come at the same time but it’s close competition. Rin palms his cock through the last shivery remnants of orgasm thoroughly, licking one of the red hickeys on his throat. Haru’s eyes are blown and dark as his head falls back and his chest expands with heaving breaths.

Rin stretches over him while his skin begins to cool, moments settling like grains of sand. They never stop clinging, although it’s mostly Rin, greedy for the closest contact possible. His chin bumps the hard gold medal on his way up to find Haru’s mouth again. “It looks better on you than it does on me.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious about the shirt,” he says. His teeth threaten Haru’s lips when they kiss sloppily. “I’ll pick it out for you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Say something else, Haru.”

His eyes crinkle in the corners. “Okay,” he says, his hands on Rin’s broad back. “Congratulations. I love you.” And almost in the same breath, “I’m tired.”


End file.
